


There's Nothing Like Pi(e)

by RiaTheDreamer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dog - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: Simmons can’t see the logic in it. Grif is not gonna walk the dog. He’s not gonna share his food with it. But the dog is still there, on the floor, raising its head in a lazy manner to greet Simmons, just like the soldier sprawled out on the couch behind it. “’sup?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous prompted me with Grimmons “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.” on tumblr and then my reply turned way too long and this happened. I have no regrets.

He notices it the moment he opens the door. The sight causes him to freeze in the middle of the doorway of his and Grif’s shared room. He takes seconds to process the situation. He just ends up with a frown on his face.

Simmons can’t see the logic in it. Grif is not gonna walk the dog. He’s not gonna share his food with it. But the dog is still there, on the floor, raising its head in a lazy manner to greet Simmons, just like the soldier sprawled out on the couch behind it. “’sup?”

“Grif, why is there a dog in our room?” Simmons asks as he steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. Who knows how the dog might react to loud noises? What if it has rabies or something?

Rolling over to lie on his back, Grif merely shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“ _You don’t know_?” Simmons repeats dumbfounded. He is edging himself along the wall to keep a distance between himself and the beast. “How can you not know why there’s a dog in our room?!”

“I guess it just followed me home or something.” Grif does not look bothered by its presence. He does not look interested either. His reaction is the same as when he spilled cola all over Simmons’ white carpet – which means no reaction at all.

“Followed you home from _where_? Just where did you find it? Grif, did you…. Did you steal a dog? Holy crap. It can’t stay here! We are not going to steal someone’s dog, Grif!”

Grif looks just as alarmed as the dog that has now fallen asleep on the floor. “Jesus, _relax_. No one owns it. I think. Why would it follow me home if it already had a bed?”

Simmons can see some logic in that. Especially when he looks over the dog that still seems oblivious to his presence. It seems to be a mutt, at least Simmons as unable to identify it as a certain race. Its fur is brownish and long enough that it would probably be really soft if you remove all the dirt from it. It doesn’t look like a dog that has an owner. “So when did it decide to follow you home?”

“Just after lunch time.”

“When you were _where_?” There is an accusing tone in Simmons’ voice and they both know why.

Grif finally sits up to throw his hands in the air. “Fine. I was on a smoke break. Big fucking deal.”

“It _is_. They’re my lungs! And you-“ Simmons cuts himself off, knowing this argument is not going to grant him any information about the dog. That is here. In their room. For some unknown reason. “Where were you hiding when you were destroying my organs?”

“Edge of the city, like the outskirts.”

“So the dog came from the jungle?” Simmons concludes and looks at the beast again. The fur is a big mess but it looks kind of skinny once you get past it. Homeless dog then. In their room.  For some reason. “Grif, you can’t keep it – who knows where it has been?”

“I’m not keeping it,” Grif replies casually, reaching for the table to grab a bag of chips.

“Then what the fuck is it doing here?!”

“For the last fucking time – I don’t know! It followed me here and honestly I don’t give a shit if it’s sleeping in the carpet.”

The dog is definitely asleep by now, its chest rising and falling with deep, rhythmic breaths. “Have you fed it? Walked it? Do you even know how to take care of a dog?”

Grif is leaning heavily against the couch’s pillows, glaring at Simmons with unreadable eyes. “I’m  not gonna kick it out just because it needs to be taken care of. I kept you, didn’t I?”

“Haha, very funny.” Simmons is kneeling down by the dog now since it probably won’t attack him while it’s sleeping.

“Look, if it wants to sleep here, fine. Who cares? If it wants to leave again, fine. Who cares? I don’t.”

“It needs a bath,” Simmons says firmly. Grif doesn’t reply. He tries again, “Grif, it needs a bath.”

“Shit, I’m not deaf! Apparently, you are! I just told you: I’m not gonna make any effort to keep it, and I’m not gonna make any effort to kick it out. To sum it up: I’m not gonna make any effort ‘cause efforts suck.”

Grumbling, Simmons cannot help but mutter again, “It needs a bath.”

“Go for it.”

The casual way Grif says that makes Simmons suspicious. “What? Is it going to bite my face off?”

“ _No_. It doesn’t bite. Very friendly. Sleeps most of the time, anyway.”

Simmons decides not to do anything. It’s Grif’s dog. Grif should wash it.

Grif does not wash it. Simmons does. It smells and it’s annoying his nose so it isn’t really a choice. Scowling, he carefully wakes up the dog to take it to the bathroom.

The dog does not bite him. It barks once and Simmons whimpers slightly but that’s as far as it gets. The moment Simmons turns off the shower, it shakes and the cyborg’s wet clothes cling tightly to his skin and metal. He curses and calls out, “Hey, Grif, you should take a bath as well. The water’s already hot.”

“Fuck you, I already had mine!”

“Two showers a week still isn’t enough, Grif!”

By the time Simmons is done cleaning up the bathroom, Grif is asleep on the couch again. The dog is sleeping right next to the furniture, the fur on its back brushing against Grif’s hand that hangs limply.

Simmons stares at the scene and tries to find the logic in why there’s a dog in their room.

* * *

It’s Grif’s dog, Simmons quickly concludes, since the dog loves Grif. It’s weird, really. Ever since Grif (against his will) joined the military people have despised him from the first glance. Simmons has to admit it took some time before he warmed up to the lazy soldier and the name-calling between them is still a strong habit.

But the dog _adores_ him for no obvious reason. It follows him around to the point where it only creates distance between them if it’s trying to fetch something Grif has thrown. It sleeps near his feet when he’s eating in the mess hall. It sleeps next to his chair when Carolina calls them to a meeting about what the fuck to do with Chorus now. It sleeps next to Grif when Grif is sleeping. The dog sleeps a lot.

The only time the dog actually moves is when Wash forces Grif to run laps. It trudges alongside him, having no trouble with keeping up since Grif is still hopelessly out of shape.

The others meet the dog when the training session begins. It’s a source of excitement and confusion.

Tucker replies, “ _No_ , Caboose.” even before the blue soldier asks if they can have a dog. Caboose lets out a disappointed “aw” and his shoulders slumps forward.

Washington asks them where they found it. Simmons says the dog found Grif and that he has no role on all of this.

Donut asks if this means Red Team has a dog. Simmons shakes his head.

“It Grif’s dog. I think. It just… likes him. It’s weird. It’s a weird dog.”

At least Grif feeds it. He makes his squad steal extra meals that he saves for it. Of course it’s not perfect, it should have real dog food, but Simmons does not comment on that – it’s not his dog.

Surprisingly, Grif walks the dog. In some way. He brings it along when he goes on smoke breaks – wait, that’s not the truth – the dog follows him when he goes on smoke breaks. Grif just makes sure he goes the edge of the city where the dog can, well, relieve itself.

Grif refuses to acknowledge he has a dog and Simmons refuses to let himself take responsibility for the animal, but the dog is still in their room when they go to sleep.

* * *

In his denial of responsibility Grif is yet to give it a name. It stresses Simmons more out than it should. But Grif is way too casual about the dog’s presence to make a deal out of it. Giving it a name would be an effort that his pride refuses to make.

Grif doesn’t seem happy about having a dog. Not mad or annoyed by it either. He keeps up the casual “Meh, I don’t care about it” façade until Simmons is determined to break it.

The dog needs a name so Simmons names it. He gives it the most nerdy name he could come up with in the hope that it might irritate Grif. That Grif won’t let his dog have a nerdy name. That it will make Grif show that he gives a fuck about it.

So when Grif says, “Sure.” Simmons is very disappointed.

“What?” He frowns. “You’re really okay with that?”

“Yep. _Pie_ is an awesome name.”

“Wha- _No_! I named him _Pi_!”

Grif nods and lets the dog rest its head in his lap. There’s going to be dog hair all over the couch now. “Exactly. _Pie_. Great name. Everyone loves pies.”

“No, _Pi_ as in the mathematical constant. Three point one four one five-“

“Oh god, please stop.”

Simmons does stop, only to stare at Grif and the dog in his lap. With his fur clean he looks much healthier. Not so skinny, either. “His name is _Pi_.”

“Right. _Pie_. Like the good ones.”

“For fuck’s sake, Grif!”

* * *

The name sticks since no one can really tell the difference. Pi(e) doesn’t seem to care either. It only reacts to the name when Grif calls it which is pretty fucking unfair since Simmons is the one who named it.

“Pi, get off my bed!” Simmons exclaims, hovering above the sleeping dog, one and pointing at the floor. The dog does not move.

Simmons turns his head to stare at Grif, demanding for him to take action since he’s the only one the dog obeys. Which is strange and illogical since Grif hates giving orders.

Grif shrugs. “Just let him stay. It’s not like you use the bed every night.”

Simmons blushes but gives up his bed. Grif has never been fairly romantic and the cyborg takes what little romantic gesture he can get.

Even if this is a really weird way to ask Simmons to share bed with him.

* * *

The first time Simmons really realizes Grif cares is when they’re sent on a scouting trip and Grif locks Pi(e) in their room. It whines and scratches against the door but Grif ignores it and walks away with long steps. Simmons doesn’t say anything ‘cause it’s not his dog.

Once they’re in the jeep, however, he casually asks why Grif did not bring him along. Since, you know, the dog goes wherever Grif goes. In the last couple of days he has grown used to the fact that Grif and Pi(e) go hand in hand.

Grif turns his head to stare at him as if he has grown an extra head. “What’s wrong with you?!” he asks in horror, as if Simmons has just suggested killing babies and giving their bodies to Caboose as a birthday present. “Dead dogs are the saddest thing on Earth. If Pie goes with us and gets shot, Donut is going to cry for weeks and you’ll give Caboose a new depression. Hell, you can’t even say the name _Marley_ without Donut tearing up. Stupid movie.”

Simmons doesn’t know what to say about that so he just leans back in the passenger seat while Grif continues to drive. The sheer hint that Grif cares so much about the stupid dog is enough to stun Simmons. When he finally speaks, he says lamely, “My grandfather’s name was Marley.”

Grif stares at him like he has lost his mind and Simmons stares back because Grif is finally giving up his apathetic behavior and Simmons can see it as clear as day.

Especially when Grif begins to hurry Simmons. Usually the orange soldier would be kicking the ground while reluctantly looking for enemies, the entire time complaining about the fact that they had been given the mission in the first place.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Simmons asks when Grif tells him to get a move on. “Are you sick?”

“What? No!”

“Then why are you telling me to hurry the fuck up? I’m the one who tells you that – it’s my line!”

Grif crosses his arms and makes a point out of not looking at Simmons. “Well, it’s taco Tuesday and I want to get home before they stop serving them warm. So get a move on.”

Strangely (actually, it’s not so strange – Simmons saw it coming) Grif finds the time to go to their room, let out Pi(e) and pet him before heading towards the mess hall, the dog right behind him.

* * *

Simmons likes to bitch a lot about Pi. The dog sheds and it refuses to learn any tricks. Grif likes to bitch about Pie. He has to share his food with it.

Somehow they manage to bitch so much it that Kimball hears about it. She’s under the impression that they have found a stray dog and with no other solutions they have been forced to take care of it so far. She offers to bring it somewhere else since others are willing to adopt it.

Simmons knows that someone is Palomo. Or Matthews. They’ve both been following the dog around (and therefor also Grif around) until Grif lost his temper and yelled at them to fuck off.

Grif shrugs when Kimball offers to take the dog off their hands. “Sure. Whatever.”

Kimball tells them she will go make the arrangements. Grif walks away, Pie (no, _Pi_.) right at his heels. Simmons knows Grif, has been living with him for years, and he notices the way his shoulders are slumped slightly forward and the way he had been absolutely beaming just an hour before when Sarge was yelling at him and Pie had responded by barking and growling until Sarge had threatened to shoot him with a shotgun and – holy shit, Grif gives a crap.

And now they’re going to lose the stupid dog that doesn’t even like Simmons, but it likes Grif and Grif likes the stupid dog and now Simmons has to do something about it.

He runs after Kimball, pats her on the shoulder and when she turns around he fumbles with the words as he tries to explain the situation.

* * *

“Wait, so that’s a rule?” Grif asks later that evening when he is sprawled over the couch and Pie is lying on top of his stomach.

Simmons shoves his legs off the couch so he can rest there as well. “Not exactly a rule – more like a safety procedure.”

Grif frowns, now resting his legs on the coffee table. “Since when have fleas been a threat? We’re all wearing fucking armor!”

“Well, in case its fur is infected with bugs it’s better we keep him in a contained area.” It’s a really stupid excuse but at least Grif is even stupider so he will buy it. Hopefully.

“Wait, so now we can’t walk him?” Grif’s voice was a mix between relief by losing another duty and horror at the thought of picking up dogshit from the floor.

“Wha- no, I mean it’s better he stays the same place at night.”

When Simmons finally settles in the couch, Pie wakes up. It wags it tail and moves over to rest its head in Simmons’ lap. The cyborg reluctantly reaches out to scratch it behind the ears and Grif is doing his best not to grin widely. “So… We’re having a dog?”

“I guess,” Simmons replies and feels pride swell inside his chest when Pie wags his tail again when he continues to ruffle its fur. “I mean, it’s here.”

“Right,” Grif agrees and prepares to take a nap by resting his head against Simmons’ shoulder. Pie is slowly closing his eyes as well.

“Well, if we’re settled on this, we should get him a collar. In case he gets lost. Or stolen. We should talk to Doctor Grey about vaccines –who knows which kind of germs they have –“

“Simmons, he survived a fucking civil war.”

“That’s not the same! And if he’s not sterilized we’re going to end up with puppies and then Caboose will try to move in and-“

“Simmons – it’s nap time. Shut up.”

Pie agrees by falling asleep in Simmons’ lap.

* * *

Pie stays and they both continue to bitch about him. Especially when they’re eating at the mess hall so the others can hear their bitching.

“He kept wanting me to throw the stupid ball yesterday. My arm is sore. And someone,” Grif glares darkly at Wash, “doesn’t think it’s a valid excuse not to do push-ups.” Under the table he slips Pie a slice of bacon that Simmons pretends he does not see.

“That’s no reason to complain,” Simmons huffs. “I’m the one who lost a bed because he refuses to sleep anywhere else at night. I’m _never_ going to get all the dog hair out of the mattress.”

Grif opens his mouth to tell him about how hard it is to walk Pie every day but he never gets the chance to complain since Tucker cuts in, pointing at Simmons with his fork, “Wait, so where do you sleep?”

Simmons cannot make a poker-face and his cheeks turn red as Tucker grins and lets out an amused, “Ooooh.”

Grif smirks and lets his hand fall so Pie can lick bacon grease of the fingers. The dog barks happily and Grif decides to make a bet with Tucker later about how long it’ll take for him and Wash to adopt an alley cat.

**Author's Note:**

> And useless fluff for everybody. This prompt turned out longer than expected so I decided to post it here as well. Otherwise my shorter replies to prompts will be posted on Tumblr.
> 
> This was way too fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it, awesome anonymous reader!
> 
> Anyone else has ideas for a prompt I can always be found on tumblr.  
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
